F.G.M.G - My Kitchen

I got thick red bones cooking up in my kitchen
And after she done shes doing my dishes
From three point five to a whole damn chicken
Straight from the stove to the block no pitching
My money on missions send money go get it
Yeah bought it for the low my Mexicans with it
My clock don't stop so I have to keep ticking
Catfish on my dinner plate for desert im eating great
My drink of choice my lemonade or molly inside my minute maid
School girl she hate plugs so tight she don't like drugs
All I know is she fucks with me because her mom and dad
They hate thugs Im a real nigga I don't front
Got pep lepue inside my blunt Xanax jolly rancher
Pour a four in a ice cold punch
I walk around like my shit don't hump
P.m.e boss get your whole crew jumped
If shes a bad bitch I might spend that chump
You a broke nigga say what you want
Make 12 in 2k6 nigga trap midnight
With the grave diggers got papercuts
From these damn benjis my thumb started
To get damn blisters my swag on kodack pictures
You a bad bitch take a picture with me
Shit tricking part of my reputation
Taking model whores on vacations
Smoking weed still on probation
Im turned up off of money faces
With the pyrex I go crazy
Im getting money never getting lazy
Me and my white chick just had a baby
Now we dirty dancing like Patrick Swayze
My last profit looked so amazing
It gave me chills it had me shaking
I got thick red bones cooking up in my kitchen
And after she done shes doing my dishes
From three point five to a whole damn chicken
Straight from the stove to the block no pitching
My money on missions send money go get it
Yeah bought it for the low my Mexicans with it
My clock don't stop so I have to keep ticking
Back like a sequal ball like them eagles
Play bird and get eagled no danny but we lethal
Weapons trust mother nature we a force to be wreckoned
Counting on me is like counting a blessing
Im out here getting high nigga call it skydiving
Somebody gotta be the rider if I got to ride it
Fuck bitches them fuck niggas be fucking lying
Im just fucking the world until her pussy crying
Got so much swag you can throw it in the bag
One night your chick and you can have her ass back
Got it popping nigga no pop tart
Im just trying to play with them keys like im Mozart
Got them beans and they looking like sweet tarts
Nigga we the shit yall niggas old farts
And they say blood thicker than water
My homie got a son and his boy might be the father
Im in the trap sitting with them trap niggas
Money getters go getters
Run up out this bitch and run that money nigga
You know a bitch that like to whip and do them dishes nigga
Young classic bitch give you racks and tell you flip them
Take a nigga from his bitch and put him on some shit
If hes leaving with me that mean he on some shit
Shopping sprees nice whips money trips
Duffle bags I say fuck a purse bitch
Conceited bitch in the mirror talking shit
With my nigga on the bed yelling talk that shit
He say get your ass up out that mirror bitch
Because im the bitch to put you in some shit
Got work hell yeah I be pitching bitch
Go ahead got eighteen a chicken bitch
Five heads stashed just sitting bitch

Written by:
Benny Anderson jr, dominique anderson, Geno childs jr, George Carter, prince dortch

Publisher:
Lyrics © BOSSTALK GWAP MUSIC, O/B/O DistroKid

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